Anguish of Sunup
by Kayla Swan Hale-Cullen
Summary: Alice's time in the asylum, and yes i did do research... disclaimer incase i forget in chapter : i sadly, don't own twilight.
1. second vision: first pain

**Disclaimer:**** Alright, this is the first story I'm going to keep on writing. Well since I hate plain, boring, old disclaimers, I will gift you with FUNNY ones!**

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***takes place in my head***

**Kayla: la dee da da, I'm lonely!**

**Alice: hi Kayla! It's nice and quiet all except you're… err… ah… lovely singing!**

**Kayla: thanks I do try!**

**Alice: I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I got a text. It says Dear Kayla---**

_**I'm sorry but you do not own twilight this is to be written in your disclaimer.**_

**Kayla: **no! No! NO! _NO!_ _**NO!**__** NO! **_

**Alice: *consoles***

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**Well, yeah, I don't own twilight…. 8C**

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My long, dark, brown hair whipped my face; and my eyes hurt, it was my brain massacring them.

The wind blew my hair in my face because it was coming at me from behind me, the wind was at my back and I knew that my life was too, because father said that if I see something again, I can't live in his house anymore. So ma, pa and Cynthia should soon enough forget me, would they? Should they?

The answer is yes I don't want to leave them broken or hurting.

The pain took over and his face over whelmed my mind.

But before my senses where all cut off by the vision, I heard Cynthia yell, "Please, Alice! Don't! I can't lose you"!

That was too bad, but she'd learn to live. I'd be no more than a memory when the takers and father were done with me….

_He was facing the right, staring over a bunch of fighting people, the horrors they were, the eyes. Oh! The eyes! The red peepers pinched my heart and pierced my sole._

"_Stop! Maria will kill you and me" The boy with the moon-scars and white-flaxen hair._

_I watched the boy kill them all on orders from 'Maria', for some reason this boy was a gemstone in the rough, for me, only me. My life, my future._

_I knew he was hurting; it hurt me for him to hurt. I didn't know how this boy was; he was a dream for me, my knight in shining armor, and my sweet, sweet salvation. This boy, my gemstone in the rough was meant to be mine._

When my eyes were opened I was laying on the ground, my small, 16 year old body shaking.

Above me Cynthia stared down at me. And I heard ma's cry, and pa's bellow. And the pounding of 4 pairs of heavy boots against the hard field's ground, the boots only takers wore.

Ma brushed her light hand across my face, Cynthia held my dress's hem and sobbed over me, pa screeched orders, his harsh voice commanding the takers.

I never liked pa, he had always hated me, hated me to the core. I don't know why, good doesn't either; I'm sure! But then again God isn't supposed to let me be punished like this, isn't supposed to put me thru heck and back.

There were firm hands on my arms, and on my legs. The takers were restraining me, they were putting me thru heck, and this would be my new life. But I knew I could find a way out, whether breakout, or suicide, for sure there will be something outside of my new, yet old life.


	2. not so great escape

…_two weeks later…_

I lay shaking on the cool stone floor, the solitary and holey blanket wrapped around my frail body and thin hospice gown.

My head hurt and I didn't want to go thru all those treatment they mad the visions come on harder instead of getting rid of them, after all it was my birthday: I was now seventeen.

I decided to get out.

My birthday present to my self.

I pulled up holding on to the ragged cobblestone wall, I thought I was quiet but apparently my cell mate heard me. She screeched at me in her 30 year old sing-song voice.

"No! No! No! Miss Mary Alice! Don't you dare think about 'scapin? They take yo bones and brake 'em" she was going to give me away! "If you do get out, would you bring me a warm cup of milk for my babies" her voice changed sweet and silky at the end?

Translation: bring me some warm milk for my imaginary babies.

I kept running toward the barred door, I was thin enough to shimmy through, I'm sure. I didn't eat well: not that they fed well.

But the human wall was standing on the other side; this taker was my very least favorite.

"GIRL! Were may you be headin?" The wall screamed, and I was sure I heard an 'I warned ya' from the other side of the cell.

"I'm going to the police, reporting your painful tendencies!"

"Oh but girl! Don't you know? You are legally dead, girl! Your family had the funeral a week ago! They don't care! And the police would surly send you back here as sein as how you act like a dead-girl-walkin!"He let out a trilling laugh.

I stared in shock.

So was this it then was there no hope? Would Cynthia forget me? And ma? Even though I hated the man, but pa? How could they? Were they so embarrassed for me? I would as well be dead?

I turned and laid back down, pressing my self to the blanket.

The wall turned and loped away chortling.

A woman was in next, she came in she had her nurse's garb on; though she was really not a nurse, she was the opposite. She would be the first to squeeze your wounds until you bled out** (getting rid of bad blood)**. She would be the first to kick a clean-broken bone until it splintered** (ridding the bone of the devil).**

The words to come next were my least favorite. They left her cherry red lips, wisped past her peroxide-blonde hair, and flew in front of her blue-lined, aqua-colored eyes. "Time for your help".

I moaned and she laughed at my pain and sadness; that witch.

She whipped scissors out of her black bag.

Before I could testify, she had cut off all of my hard-earned, hard-grown brown-black hair. "NOoooo!"

And then my pain came. She took out a needle the size of a pencil, and a miniature mallet. Heck, what was this for?

She said to open wide, assuming she meant my mouth I tightened it into a straight line and opened up my eyes wide to stare at her. little did I know I had given her what she wanted.

I screamed from here to tomorrow as she put the needle to my eye and tapped it in with the mallet.

I passed out, after she removed the pencil-sized pointy thing.

I passed out into a vision.

_I saw the boy again, except this time he was walking into a bar from the rain._

_I started toward him as he did to me._

_When we met, as a greeting I said "you've kept me waiting"._

_He took off his hat and bowed like a good southern gentleman and said "sorry ma'am"_

_His eyes were black and I saw in the reflection myself, my eyes were, also black._


	3. the old one

**Disclaimer:**** As I said: HATE BORING DISCLAIMERS! So here is today's treat!**

**The disclaimer song**

_**I went to school one day, sat down and decided to read**_

_**My teacher said what you reading?**_

_**I said it was twilight, but when in truth it was my plan for world domination!**_

_**My plan is: Steel twilight since I can not have it**_

_**Yes, Stephanie Meyer said I can not own it!**_

_**So I do not own it!**_

**Well that was a bad try at a song, but anyway you get the point right?**

**For all the confused, let me clarify: **

**I sadly do not own twilight.**

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I woke up with an extreme head-pain; god knows what that witch did to me after the lobotomy.

My vision was blurry, but that wasn't due only to the needle thing, it was also the vision's fault.

Why was I meeting the boy? Where was I meeting the boy? But my gemstone in the rough that he was; how could he keep me waiting, when I don't know him? Well I did, but still why was my future taking him to me? Did he see the same things? Was he in another crazy bin? No, he wasn't, he was doing 'Maria's' bidding and killing off all those people, the scary ones, the one's with the scarlet eyes.

Then I noticed him, the man in the corner of my room.

He had shiny black hair, and burgundy eyes, just like the ones the group of raving people had, except his were darker. Something in the back out my head told me it wasn't safe for him to be here…

Oh great now I'm hearing things, so what now? Do they shove a needle down my ear? Why don't I have it in me to just lie down and die? I don't know, but that boy, the one with the blonde hair. He kept me holding on, holding on to the life raft, he didn't want me to sink deeper, and then again he was imaginary.

I cringed against the wall and then I looked up again, and the man said five words "i no le harán daño", great he's Spanish! Thank god for Isadora, the house keeper, she taught me Spanish, and I knew enough to know that he didn't want to hurt me.

Then I stared into his deep red eyes and when he saw my fixation, the only light in the darkness; both personal and midnight; disappeared.

_The boy with battle scars held his arm around my shoulders; we were both pale white and looked icy like fresh snow. But how could that be? My skin is not pale white, not remotely close._

_I told him how my visions worked and that I saw him, and that I forgot everything, I was alone, and had to find him._

Great he caused another vision, they've never came on this bad before, something was telling me to find that boy, and forget my life.

Would I? Could I?

There were so many things I didn't want to forget!

Cynthia. Ma. Pa. Isadora. Elise. Sunday morning rides in the automobile. Cynthia? Ma? And even though I didn't like him and he returned the favor, pa?

I knew I'd go to the red-eyed Spaniard and ask for his help, it was all I could do. Besides he seemed to care.

actually I was suddenly feeling very sleepy!

But before I could nod off. I noticed a blonde male with black eyes. he was staring into the barred door.


	4. leeches

But he wasn't the boy from the pictures my mind made.

This male, was not a boy…he was a man.

He locked gaze with me and then as one of the very seldom breezes ran thru the crack in the wall, his nostrils flared than he crinkled his nose, before growling and leaving.

There was the voice in my head again, it said not to get closer and to ignore him, and he would go away soon. It was like the voice knew something I didn't, right at the 'go away' part in sounded like it was lying.

Just now did I realize that the voice was the voice of my gemstone in the rough, the boy in my visions? The answer was yes, but I must of known it subconsciously.

Just now I realized that the blonde man was the same as the Spaniard in my cell, the boy in my visions, and all the red eyed people that were raving in my head. Something told me that all those people's eyes would be red when they needed something, something vital like air, food, or drink. That one day I would be like them, was inevitable; I've seen it.

And now I would most likely see it again, boy was I right.

_I was running down the street with such speed! I was going after something like I would if I were still home, like ma's fresh strawberry-rhubarb pie._

_As I ran past a glass paneled store front I saw my reflection; my eyes were dark brown, almost black. My skin looked ice cold and rock hard. I was still in my hospice gown, except now it was bloody and torn. And the name Alice was written across it in rushed green ink handwriting, like whoever wrote is was running out of time.. _

_For some reason, I couldn't remember anything before this vision but I kept on watching._

_I ran and ran and ran, I ran down the cobblestone path that should cut open the soles of my feet. But they didn't as I flashed a glance at the ground behind me the cobblestones were smashed and broken; the smashing and braking were in the line of my path._

_That was odd, but how? Only diamond hard rocks could brake cobblestones…._

_I finally got to my destination, it was a deer running across the street, as it got closer I lunged. _

_Warm liquid ran down my throat, it was like ice on a burn, it sustained my thirst._

_And in no time my eyes were a golden brown. And I was sustained._

So is that my future? I didn't have red eyes but I was… what? A vampire?

Oh. My. Good. Lord. That was what I was! Or will be!

I am going to be a leech!

Not just me but the boy in my head! The Spaniard! The man at my cell door!

So what was I? Their prey? Oh. My. God. I was!

Not the Spaniard, he cared. And not the boy in my head, I… I think I love him. But what about the man at my door? I was what he wanted for dinner.

To him I was probably a gourmet meal!

I know what I have to do.

I have to find the Spaniard and tell him to help me, to protect me. In absolutely any way he could.

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